


Sometimes before it gets better, the darknes gets bigger

by FOBlovur1824



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-01-25 15:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12534960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FOBlovur1824/pseuds/FOBlovur1824
Summary: Patrick Stump has been ignored and abused all his life. He knows he running out of hope, and his will to live is fading fast. he's falling into a dark place, and he has no one to show him the light. That is until Pete Wentz comes along. This is my first fanfic, so commentary is appreciated!!!!





	1. Prologue

Patrick

I wake up everyday, wishing I hadn't. I go to sleep every night, hoping I don't wake up, hoping I can avoid my pathetic excuse for a life. But I can't. my hopes, my dreams, my silent wishes before I go to bed, they never work out. I am seventeen years old, and I have no intention of doing anything much with my life. I pushed away all of my friends, years ago, my dad abuses me, and I'm bullied more than I can take. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to push through. I slowly roll out of bed, sure to be quiet, so as to not wake up my dad.

I throw on the nearest clothes, and quickly pack up my stuff. I tip toe down the steps, checking the couch, hoping my dad is snoring away. unfortunately for me, he's wide awake, and standing in the kitchen.

"what the fuck are you still doing here?" he snaps.

"I don't know. sorry." I stutter.

he walks over and slaps me. I quickly recover, then put down my stuff waiting for the next impact. he shoves me against a wall, and begins punching  my already bruised ribs. it hurts like hell, but it's nothing unlike what I've felt before. in fact, it's nothing. he shoves me to the ground, then kicks me in the leg. hard.

"Get to school you worthless mistake." he says while walking away.

I grab my stuff, running to the bus stop so I'm not late. I'm holding back tears, but I know that if I shed a single tear, this morning will be ten times worse. the bus pulls in, the brakes screeching, as the doors open. I board the monstrosity, hoping that I'll be able to find an empty seat, so I could be left alone this morning. as I scan the seats, I feel an impact to my head, as my bag is ripped off my shoulders.

I'm shoved into a seat, and the contents of my bag are emptied onto the floor.

"what do we have here faggot?"

"n-nothing."

"worthless piece of shit. why are you still here? haven't we made it clear enough yet you aren't wanted? or should we make sure it's crystal clear for you?"

please just let me alone. please don't do anything today. I just want to be left alone. I think. the bus lurches to a stop, and someone grabs my bag, and the back of my shirt. I'm pulled of the bus, and drug into the men's restroom.

"what first faggot?"

the one boy, john, throws me against a wall, and they all take turns kicking me. I'm beaten to a pulp. they keep beating me, until I can feel blood running down my face. the first period bell rings.

"shit. your lucky faggot. just wait and see what we have planned for you later." john says.

with that they all leave, and I'm left in the bathroom alone, tears streaking down my face. I lock myself in a stall, and pull out something from my pocket. it's cold, small, and metal. it's my last friend in this cold and lonely world. I pull up my sleeves, and slowly drag the sharp edge of the blade down my skin. it stings a little at first, then goes numb. I make several cuts, and watch them as they slowly fill with blood, until it's steadily running down my arm.

I wipe it up with a paper towel, and wrap it in some gauze hoping it catches enough of the blood until it scabs over. I don't even bother cleaning the cuts, because frankly I don't care. I walk to second period, just as the bell rings. I make it through the rest of the morning, and nothing happens. then lunch happens. I grab an apple, because my fat ass doesn't need anymore food.

I sit alone, as usual, and I watch as my old friends laugh and enjoy their lives. they were my best friends, until I pushed them away because my life was so shitty, and I couldn't watch as I brought them down. I miss them all, but I miss Pete the most. by far. he was my best friend, the hardest one to let go.

i'm shaken out of my thoughts by a bottle of ice-cold water being poured on my head. I turn and look around and see that it wasn't john, but caleb who poured it on my head. I turn around looking at everyone. they're all laughing at me. even Pete. that hurts more than any beating I could take. something just snaps. I run out of the cafeteria, leaving everything but my phone behind me, not even caring that they're probably rifling through my stuff.

I run to the bathroom, and lock the stall listening to my favorite playlist on the loudest setting, hoping to drown out my thoughts.

My name is Patrick Stump, and this is my life.


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick

I ditch the last two periods, and just hide in the bathroom, hoping to save myself some shame. the last bell rings, and I sneak out of the bathroom, only to be stopped by Caleb and john.

"what do you think you're doing faggot?"

"P-please let me go."

"hell no."

Caleb grabs the back of my shirt, and john gags me. they drag me past the bus stop, and continue walking for a few minutes. they finally turn into a dark alley. they throw me to the ground, and john spits on me.

"stupid faggot. you know what Caleb? I want to have some fun with this little fucker. how about you?"

Caleb just shrugs. john walks over to me, and begins fiddling with the zipper on his pants. no. no. no. no. please not this. please god, not this. I scream in pain. 

"Shut him up Caleb!"

Caleb walks over to me and swiftly kicks me in the face. I'm in so much pain, I  begin to drift. 

"come here faggot."

I can't move. everything hurts far too much. he pulls me up.

"Caleb, hold him."

Caleb grabs me, and is holding me in a kneeling position.

p>

. john kicks me to the ground, and they begin to beat me. john is far more aggressive than he usually is. he kicks me to a pulp. he kicks my ribs continually he hears a crack. it takes everything I have not to scream.

"come on john. lets go."

Caleb grabs john, and they hurry away, leaving me in a pool of my own blood. I lay there for several minutes, then slowly pull on my clothes and limp home. I have no idea where my backpack is, and I can't find it within myself to care. I get home, only to be immediately faced by my dad. not tonight. damnit. I can't take anymore tonight.   

"where the fuck were you?"

"I'm sorr-"

"shut the fuck up. I don't want your worthless apologies. you were probably out fucking with someone weren't you, you little whore? why'd your mother have to leave me with a mistake like you? you're just a fuck up who never should have been born."

he shoves me against a wall, and kicks me several times.

"get to your room you useless whore."

I limp to my bedroom, sit on my bed, and begin to cry. I grab a razor blade, and just cut. and cut. I don't even care as the blood drips of my arm, and stains my favorite t-shirt. I can't do this anymore. I can't. as if in autopilot, I drop the razor blade. I throw on a sweatshirt, and walk outside. I take a 10 minute walk, still limping terribly to the bridge near my house. it's fairly steep, so I know it would be enough.

I climb onto the side, and stand there for a minute. should I write a letter? no. no one will even miss me enough to read the stupid thing. this is it. I know I'm ready. I can't take one more day of being tormented. I lean forward, when I hear a voice.

"hey. don't do this. please. I know things may seem terrible now, but they will get better. you just have to get through this."

Pete. oh god. it's Pete. of all the people.

"I know I don't know what you're going through. I know you're probably in a terrible situation, but I can try and help you figure it out. not everything is terrible. I can be your friend. I can help you through this, if you'll just let me." he says.

"no. you can't there's nothing good left for me here. it's over." I mutter.

"Patrick?!"

 


	3. chapter3

 

Pete

it hurts me to see Patrick bullied like that. it can't be good for him. I'm not sure how far he'll take it too make it stop. I don't seem to know him very well anymore. we're like strangers. ever since his mom died, he's been different. he doesn't talk much, and you can tell he hasn't been doing well. he was never fat, just a little chubbier than usual. but after his mom's death, he dropped weight so fast, it was almost instantaneous. he's so small.

not only does he have a small frame, he is so tiny. he can't be more than 5'4". it scares me, because I know he's skin and bones. the worst part is that because he is bullied everyday, I'm worried that he can't defend himself, and some prank will go terribly wrong, and end up with Patrick seriously hurt.

I shake myself out of these dark thoughts about my best friend. I have to go to the next two periods. Patrick is in 7th with me, so hopefully I can make sure he's ok. 6th period drones on, as always, but I think I'm just extra anxious because of Patrick. I'd give anything to have him happy and my best friend again. just like the old days. the more I think about it, the more upset I get. about 2 years ago, after his mom's death, Patrick started to sink into a depression. he pushed all of us away, including me.

I was so upset, I tried to kill myself. I attempted to overdose on Ativan. it was a really rough year for me. I ended up being diagnosed bipolar, but Patrick still doesn't know. honestly, I want to stop him. I want to tell him everything. I want our friendship the way it once was. I'm so invested in my thoughts I almost miss the bell. I race to class and sit down, waiting for Patrick to walk in. but he doesn't. he doesn't show up for the entire period. I begin to freak out. what if something terrible happened???

'calm down Pete. he probably just ditched. everyone does it occasionally,'

I'm twitching the entire ride home. where the hell was he?? I get home, and I watch something on TV. I don't even remember what was playing, it was simply background noise. I eat dinner, and by the time 9 o'clock rolls around, I feel like the house is crowded, and decide I need to get out to clear my mind. I'm walking around aimlessly, not sure what exactly I'm doing out. I turn around, intending to go to the bridge and look out over the water, when I see someone standing over the edge, prepared to jump and take their life.

"hey. don't do this. please. I know things may seem terrible now, but they will get better. you just have to get through this."

he stiffens at the sound of my voice. please don't jump. shit please don't jump.

"I know I don't know what you're going through. I know you're probably in a terrible situation, but I can try and help you figure it out. not everything is terrible. I can be your friend. I can help you through this, if you'll just let me." I say.

he hesitates. standing there pondering my words once more before he speaks. I hear his voice, and I almost pass out. words coming out of a mouth I would never have expected, from a voice of someone I deeply loved.

"no. you can't there's nothing good left for me here. it's over."

"Patrick?!"


	4. chapter 4

Patrick

I hear rapid footsteps behind me, so I attempt to jump, only to be knocked to the ground. I yelp loudly, because it was surprisingly painful. Pete is standing over me, tears in his eyes.

"why?"

"I hate my life. I'm a fuckup, and no one appreciates me. I didn't even write a letter. I didn't think anyone would care enough to read it."

Pete holds out his arm, and helps me up. I'm still bleeding everywhere, and I'm in an incredible amount of pain, so I begin to sway on my feet. Pete quickly walks over and scoops me up. he hold's me gently in his strong arms, but I have absolutely no idea how he can lift me.

"How can you carry me?"

"Patrick." Pete whispers tears streaking down his face. "you can't weigh more than 85 pounds."

I stare at him for a minute, then turn away. he only hugs me closer. he walks for a few minutes, then opens the door to his house. he walks over to the couch and sets me down. he returns with a bowl of hot water, bandages, and a washcloth. 

 I need you to tell me what happened. what made you like this. I need to be able to help you ok?"

I look down at the ground, and refuse to meet his eyes. he grabs my hands. forcing me to look up at him.

"please Patrick. for me? I need you. I can't let anything happen to you."

he starts to cry again, and it's not long before he's full out sobbing. he sits down next to me and furiously wraps me in a hug.

"I don't know what I'd ever do without you. let me help you ok? we'll start simple. all I need you to do is tell me where you're injured, and what happened, so I can take care of you."

"my face." I whisper quietly.

Pete grabs the washcloth, and dips it in the water, dabbing away at the blood on my face.

"all done. where else?"

"that's it."

"Patrick. I know it's not. please. please. where else are you hurt?"

"M-my a-arms."

I slowly take off my sweatshirt, and then my long-sleeved shirt, until my arms and chest are bare. Pete takes it all in. the bruises covering my torso. there isn't an area of my torso that isn't bruised. my arms are littered with scars from self harm. my stomach is scarred too.

"Patrick. h-how could you do this to yourself? oh my god."

" I don't know Pete. I just don't know. how could I not? I'm fat. I'm unwanted, and unloved. I'm bullied, beaten, and pushed around. no one wants me anyway. how could anyone want me? I'm broken. filthy. used. I'm a disgrace."

I start to break down. Pete rushes over and engulfs me in a Pete bear hug. I rest my head on his shoulder, and gently wrap my arms around him, my face in his neck, inhaling his scent. it calms me, and he starts gently rubbing circles on my back.

"it's going to be ok Patrick. I care. trust me. I want you, I need you. believe me Patrick. your skinny. you're unhealthily so. I'm sorry you're bullied. believe me, you won't be again I'm going to do my best to help you. ok? you're not broken. you're strong, you're just going through a tough time. you're not filthy. you're beautiful, your smart, and you're one of the sweetest people I know. you're fucking amazing 'trick. trust me. you have an amazing voice Patrick. believe me I need you more than you'll ever know. you just have to let me help you ok? lets get through this tonight step by step, and figure out what the hell we're gonna do."

"ok."

I don't bother arguing. Pete takes one of my arms, and stares at it for a minute. then he takes the washcloth and cleans it up, then bandages it. he takes the other arm, and runs his fingers over the scars and protruding marks. he stops at one of the deepest ones, surprisingly recent, and kisses it. i'm shocked, and not sure what to say. the kiss evokes buried feelings in my heart. the gesture was so sweet. so innocent, I know it could never mean what i' hoping. so I let it go.

"Patrick...?"

"yeah?"

"d-did john and Caleb. did they, do anything else to you...?"

"w-what do you mean Pete?"

"Patrick, your neck, your neck has marks on it. did they..."

"Pete. I-I cant. you'll think I'm dirty. you'll hate me."

"I could never."

"They. they raped me."

Pete stands up so fast I almost miss the movement. the look on his face is so irate, I can't do anything but cower in fear. he walks over to the coffee table and slams his fist on it so hard it leaves a crack on it. I begin to shake.

"I-I-I'm sorry P-Pete. I'll leave. I'm sorry. I'm filthy. I'm terrible. I'm sorry."

I start crying, and Pete turns around, a instant look of regret forming on his face.

"Shhh I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't that was stupid of me. there is nothing wrong with you. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. why don't you get showered?"

"ok"

I start to stand up, leaning heavily on Pete, but when I start to walk over to the bathroom, I lose my balance, and land on the floor with a pitiful yelp.

"I'll help you."

Pete picks me up, and carries me to the bathroom, and carefully helps me undress. I step into the shower, holding on the handrails, and turn the shower to the hottest setting while Pete stands outside. I scrub myself raw for thirty minutes, and Pete says nothing. I turn of the shower, wrap myself in a towel, and Pete helps me get dressed. I hobble to his bedroom, leaning heavily on him. I flop down on to the bed, and just curl into a heap. Pete lays down next to me, and adjusts the blanket.

"we'll talk about this more tomorrow. okay 'trick?"

I don't respond, so Pete thinks i'm asleep. about 20 minutes later, i'm drifting off to sleep, when I hear three words that turn my world upside down.

"I love you 'trick."

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I UPDATED. MY LIFE HAS BEEN CRAZY. HERE'S THE NEW CHAPTER. ENJOY.

**Pete**

 

watching the sleeping boy in my arms makes everything I saw in the past few hours seem like my imagination. he's so perfect. so innocent, pure. the fact that those thoughts can even come out of his brain shocked me to the point where i'm still reeling. i'm not exactly sure what to do, all I know is that i'll be with him every step of the way trying to help him. when he whispered to me what john and Caleb did? those monsters harming, beating and doing god even knows what to Patrick? it scarred him. terribly. I can see it in his eyes, at the way he looks at me. but it's not just recent. he looks at me with years of being beaten down. like he's on his last threads, holding him together.

he stirs in my arms. I try and calm him down, but he begins to tremble and whimper.

"no. please. no. stop."

it's not long before he has tears running down his face in his sleep.

" Patrick. shhh. i'm here 'trick. i'm here."

he begins to relax into my arms again. he's so tiny that when I hold him, he feels almost like a child. I can feel each individual bone in his body, and it scares me. how far gone is he?

is he to close to the brink of death? too far gone to be saved??

I refuse to believe that. but it only strengthens my fears that I don't have much longer with him if he continues on this path.

his arm brushes against mine, and I feel all of the scars again. how could someone so perfect think so little of themselves? nobody deserves him. little does he know, how perfect he is, how I wish I could just make him see. I wish I could kiss him. just kiss every worry off that sweet boy's face.

I fall asleep listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart.

 

***

 

**Patrick**

I wake up next to Pete, and am struck by how beautiful he looks asleep. god I love him. it's been so long since I've even allowed myself to think that. I know I'm gay, but I'll never say a word. I'll never risk the friendship between us. or risk myself bullied more for something more I can't control.

I'd rather be in his life as his best friend, then not at all.

I sit there for about an hour admiring him, before he starts to stir. I decide it's about time I get up. I stand up and start walking towards the bathroom, when the room starts spinning like crazy. I walk into a table, and knock over the vase shattering it into 1000 pieces. shit. not this again. this always happen when I don't eat anything for about a week. I get really dizzy and i'm forced to cave. I have to eat something.

I sit there for a second trying to gather myself when Pete rushes out of bed.

"shit 'trick! you ok?" he says kneeling next to me and beginning to look me over.

"I'm fine." I mutter. I feel a stinging on my knee, but I don't want to mention that. it doesn't matter anyway. I probably deserved it. it was my klutzy fault anyway.

"No you aren't 'trick. you're knee is bleeding terribly. here. let me help you up."

he lifts me up and sets me down on the bathroom floor. he starts frantically grabbing at everything relating to first aid that he can find. he lifts my leg onto his lap, and starts dabbing away at all the blood from where the vase sliced through my knee.

"hey 'trick this looks bad. you might have to get stitches."

"it'll be fine. I don't need anything. ok? I'll be fine."

"fine 'trick. just, just let me take care of you. ok? keep and eye on you. i'm worried about you."

"why? why would you be worried about me? why would you care?"

"why not? you're my best friend! you mean the world to me. I love you!"

does he really? or is it out of pity. because I tried to kill myself? Is that why he says he loves me? so he can convince me to stay till he tries of me? then discard me like a used up toy?

"do you mean it?" I whisper.

"I've never meant anything more."

I look at him with a small smile. a genuinely happy smile. he sees the smile, and immediately bursts into a huge grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

I know two things when I look at that face.

1\. this is the first time in a long time, that I've felt ok. maybe everything isn't all bad. maybe I'll be ok.

2\. I was in love with Pete wentz, and I was falling harder than I had ever fallen before.

"I love you too." more than you'll ever know.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Fanfic ever, so everything I write is experimental. thank you so much for reading! commentary and tips are wanted appreciated, and needed!!


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